


The Horror Not To Be Surveyed

by freedomworm



Series: A Wounded Deer Leaps Highest [1]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 02:15:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4245669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freedomworm/pseuds/freedomworm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“So you’re alive after all,” Hisoka said, tone light as ever when he finally spoke, but his expression was still tight around his eyes. “Hm, and here I believed you had died." </i><br/> </p><p>Hisoka and Illumi meet again after seven years. What occurs afterward includes assassins, coffee, and disguises -in short, it is an adventure in murder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Horror Not To Be Surveyed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cat_magics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat_magics/gifts).



> This is my first (and probably last, haha) fic for Hunter X Hunter. I started watching and finished the 2011 show in May/June and absolutely fell in love with the entire HxH world, so I decided to try out my hand in HxH fanfic writing. 
> 
> I'm not sure how my characterizations of Illumi and Hisoka will come across. I fear I may have made them less vicious than they are in canon but... _c'est la vie_ , I suppose.
> 
> Disclaimers: I do not claim any of the HxH world as my own. I do not have a beta. All mistakes in the text are my own. 
> 
> This fic is dedicated to catmagics, without whom I would never have started watching HxH.
> 
> The title of this fic is a line from an Emily Dickinson poem. See End Notes for more on that.

_Swish. Thunk. Thud._

The last of the bodies fell heavily onto the wooden floor and from the wound in the back of its head, blood immediately began to pool, staining the ground crimson.

Illumi straightened up and adjusted a strand of his hair, which had moved out of place during the attack and ensuing battle. "Do you want something?" he asked, and a moment later, a familiar figure stepped out of the shadows.

Hisoka smiled, thin-lipped but without mirth. His yellow eyes were narrowed, trained on Illumi. He didn't even ask how Illumi had noticed him, even though he was using  _zetsu._ Normally he would have said something by now, would have given some needless explanation of every action that had brought him to this point. That he hadn't done this was telling.

That was it, then: Hisoka was pissed. Illumi considered this as he collected his pins from around the room. Hisoka had little reason to ever express irritation. Indeed, he was rarely irritated by anything at all, not when he could be amused by it, not when he could kill his problems.

When Illumi finished collecting and cleaning his pins and tucked them all away again, he finally looked over at Hisoka again and saw that he was quietly observing the state of the room from his standpoint, partially lit by the moonlight that streamed in through one window of the dark cabin.

Turning and moving for the door, Illumi felt Hisoka fall into step after him. They walked for some time away from the cabin, and through the rural area beyond it, and after all that, they approached a dark sedan that Illumi supposed could only belong to Hisoka. Or at least, it was currently in his possession. Illumi had traveled over by foot.

Hisoka produced a set of keys and the doors were opened and they climbed into the car, and although Hisoka sat at the driver's seat, he didn't immediately turn on the engine. There was something laughable about the concept of Hisoka driving a car, anyway; it was so... normal. Mundane, even, but Illumi supposed it would be too much to expect Hisoka to run everywhere, and unicycles, while befitting his off-kilter personality, were impractical.

Hisoka let out a long, exasperated sigh, drawing Illumi out of his musings. "So you're alive after all," he said, tone light as ever, but his expression was still tight around his eyes. "Hm, and here I believed you had died." He made a sweeping gesture with his hands, dramatically posing as if distraught.

Illumi blinked.

Hisoka's irritation vanished, replaced with curiosity, as if this tiny break in Illumi's otherwise neutral expression had been what he was waiting for. "It _would_ be easier work for an assassin," he supposed aloud, "If everyone believes he's dead." He smiled, excitement taking over as he presumably thought about the interactions such a predicament might entail: the surprise and fear of the victims, the confusion they might feel before death –whether they felt it coming or not. It was not that difficult to predict Hisoka's thoughts. "Wonderful," Hisoka muttered to himself after a moment, confirming Illumi's assumptions. He looked over at Illumi. "What made you give up?"

A flare of indignation shot through him. He knew what Hisoka was referring to and— "I have not given up," he said pointedly. "I am practicing patience."

Hisoka laughed at that, throwing back his head, and Illumi was tempted to slash his exposed throat. It would be easy while Hisoka was laughing. Blood would pour from his severed jugular, running red over the smooth, pale skin of his neck. It would be— beautiful. Poetic, somehow.

"Patience isn't seven years, dear Illumi," Hisoka said, when he was calm enough to speak. "Seven years is giving up."

Illumi felt another twinge of annoyance, followed, to his even greater irritation, by doubt. Was that true? He _had_ eased the intensity with which he had been searching for Kil and Alluka, certainly. There was little use in searching daily for a Zoldyck who didn't want to be found, but Illumi was _waiting_. Killua would have to make an error eventually, he was younger and less experienced and—

Seven years.

Illumi blinked. Had he squandered the last near-decade away? Had he truly allowed seven years to pass, with nothing to show for them?

But he _did_ have something to show for the years passed; he had bodies, and the compensation for the jobs he had taken. But then, he'd always had those. He was an assassin.  _He was an assassin_. He didn't need anything other than necessities. Everything else was desire-based. Everything else was dangerous.

No, Illumi decided, he had nothing to show for the last seven years. That wasn't a bad thing.

Hisoka smiled, smug, amused –unconcerned as always. He had no one, no ambitions. He was strong that way. He was untouchable in that way. He was…

Why was he there?

Illumi thought back. Hisoka had been surprised to see him. He had been there with the rest of the attackers for a job, then. But Hisoka wasn't an assassin. He didn't take jobs. "Were you tracking me, Hisoka?" Illumi asked.

Hisoka tilted his head back, raising his eyebrows. "Yes," he said, and then: "Or rather, a rumor. I really did think you were dead. I'm hurt, by the way, that you didn't tell me otherwise. I could have used your skills in a situation against some old friends some while ago."

"Obviously not," Illumi said, doubting the choice of the phrase 'old friends', "If you're still here,"

"Touché," Hisoka paused, then asked, "Where will you go?"

The answer was obvious. Illumi looked out the windshield, across the dark rural hill land illuminated only by the headlights of Hisoka's car. He was going to track down whoever put the hit on him. There was nothing more annoying than hired assassins getting in his way.

Hisoka understood. "Do you have a lead?"

"I have a name," Illumi said. He had pulled it from the unwilling mind of the last attacker, who, pin in head, had been unable to stop his mouth from betraying his knowledge. For that, Illumi had made his death quick.  _Swish, thunk, thud_. Another tally for his body count, were he the weaker sort that liked to keep record.

"Will you need assistance?" Hisoka asked, voice a low purr of someone who knew the answer to everything he was asking.

Illumi considered the target. The name was semi-familiar. There would be plenty of bodyguards. Perhaps a ridiculous number of them. He could eliminate, of course, but it would prolong the chase, and Illumi had not found amusement in a job for some time. When he was younger, he found a thrill in it. Now he decided it was messy - _inefficient_ -to give a target the opportunity to run. "I could use a distraction," he said, and he could feel the arousal rolling off of Hisoka. Really, the idiot clown had not changed a bit. Somehow, that was comforting. "If you turn this into some game... if you get in my way, I'll kill you," he said, in absentminded reminder.

Hisoka's grin widened. "I'd look forward to it," he declared, leering. He started the engine of the car, which hummed softly beneath them, and they shot off into the night, perhaps toward the nearest city, perhaps toward the nearest airship field. Illumi didn't know, and couldn't quite be bothered to ask. He stared out the windshield, watching the lit path of the dirt road before them disappear under the car as they advanced.

Seven years.

Killua and Alluka would have reached adulthood in seven years. Perhaps they, with no more connection to the Zoldyck estate, also believed their Illu-nii to be dead. That would give him the advantage, would it not? Even the slightest slip up, the slightest paper or digital trail could be tracked. Illumi could find them and then… Nanika's power would be his power, his to control, and he would have Killua and Alluka under his control once more. He would…

Illumi blinked and felt his brow furrow ever so slightly. Why did the idea no longer appeal to him? Nanika's power was great, and under his control, it would strengthen the Zoldyck family reputation to an untouchable extreme.

Was Hisoka correct after all? Had Illumi given up?

No. He shirked the thought in disgust. Zoldycks did not give up. Illumi did not give up. It was unheard of. It was a disgrace. His resolve increased; he would track down Kil and Alluka after this job with Hisoka. Then, he would not be giving up. He looked sideways at Hisoka, who was looking ahead, drumming his fingers along the steering wheel and humming tunelessly, seemingly unaware of the inner conflict he had caused in Illumi. What a pain.

"Did you have your fight, then?" Illumi asked. "With that boy?"

"Hm? No," he said, "Though he might be a worthy adversary. Alas," he sighed melodramatically, "His  _nen_  is weaker than what it could have been, and our paths have yet to cross."

Illumi's eyes narrowed. "Then you haven't… given up?"

Hisoka's laughter exploded in the small space of the car, great howls of mirth reverberating all around them.

Illumi felt a scowl tighten his features, and briefly entertained the idea of sticking a pin through Hisoka's eye. It would be satisfying, but then Hisoka might drive them into a tree, just to retaliate. "I did not think the question merited such an extreme response," he said mildly, when it sounded like Hisoka was calming down again.

"Dear Illumi," Hisoka drawled, "I'm practicing patience,"

He only barely avoided Illumi's fist, tilting his head to the side at such an angle it was almost a surprise he had not strained something in his neck.

Illumi withdrew his fist and Hisoka straightened up, tut-tutting. "Rude," he chirped, cheerful as ever.

Illumi began to wonder, not for the first time, whether anything could truly upset Hisoka. Perhaps someone interfering with his latest game of cat and mouse? Illumi wondered what would happen if he were to be that someone. They had never fought seriously –not to kill, anyway.

He could remember their first fight; at seventeen and thirteen respectively, Hisoka's skill and experience at the time far outmatched Illumi's, and they had both come away from their match bloody and bruised.

"You're quite good," Hisoka had laughed, spitting blood from his split lip onto the floor.

Illumi didn't move from his defensive stance. "Who are you?" he asked, "Who sent you?"

Hisoka was a gangly teenager, not quite as tall or muscular as he would be. He hadn't developed the creepy edge to his aura yet, but when he grinned, he still looked like the smug cat who'd caught the canary. "Which answer do you want more?"

Illumi glared, unable to mask his emotions, but he was also thirteen, and the boy who had been interfering with his jobs needed a name to his face. It had been a weakness of Illumi's youth –his desire for inessential facts; "Who are you?" he ended up asking.

Hisoka looked positively over the moon in response, which made Illumi want to yank his still beating heart right out of the other teenager's chest. Who did that idiot clown think he was?

"My name is Hisoka," he said, stating the name as if it meant something. It hadn't, not to Illumi.

"I've never heard of you," Illumi scoffed.

"But you will," Hisoka said. Blood trickled down the side of his face from a gash Illumi had inflicted across his forehead. A droplet fell off Hisoka's brow and landed in his long eyelashes. He blinked it away. "Zoldyck, is it?"

In the present, Illumi turned away from Hisoka. He had known Hisoka for almost two decades now; he knew there was no point in trying to understand the man. He lived on a whim, unpredictable.

Illumi could accept that, though. "Do you ever feel…" He caught himself before he finished the question, shaken by his own temptation and by the very conception of such a thought.

He considered his state of mind. It had been some time since he had been in the presence of an ally –even longer since he had carried polite conversation. Did he really care for the answer?

Hisoka, meanwhile, had also recognized the oddity of the almost-question. He was watching Illumi out of the corner of his eyes, eyebrows raised with a mixture of curiosity and surprise. But he said nothing, and eventually Illumi's half spoken question faded into the silence of the car.

They arrived into the city of Shiruba when the sun was just a small ray of light on the horizon, and Hisoka cut the engine in a deserted parking lot behind a closed convenience store at the edge of the city.

He climbed out of the car first and stretched, twisting side to side and once again reminded Illumi of a cat and then he clapped his hands together and turned to Illumi.

The morning air was cool, a light breeze running through Illumi's hair.

"Shall we?" Hisoka said.

 

#

They had worked two jobs together in the past: once, when Hisoka hired Illumi to take his place among the Phantom Troupe for a short period; again, more extensively, when Illumi had been tracking Killua and Alluka.

Hisoka was not a difficult person to work with, all things considered. He could be semi-professional, when he wanted to be, and it felt almost natural in remembering how to tune out Hisoka's more lewd commentary, which only increased over the days.

It was relatively short work in tracking down the target. He was attending a business conference that was high profile enough that his attendance was mentioned in online articles covering the conference. Illumi considered the motivations behind a business mogul putting a hit out on a trained assassin such as himself, and, coming up surprisingly blank, stooped to consulting Hisoka for his opinion on the matter.

Hisoka was sprawled across one of the beds in their hotel room when Illumi sought him out. He had taken to flicking cards up at the ceiling, using  _shu_  to embed them in patterns on the ceiling. "In my experience," he said, "You're likely connected in some way with the death of somebody he knew. A relative or close friend."

Illumi sighed. Vengeance. Of course. He thought back over the faces and names of past targets, all organized in the depths of his mind for the occasion that they may become relevant once more. He could not find a connection a close connection to his latest target –old colleagues and business rivals, for sure, but no single job had a direct connection to the man he was now pursuing. Severence Murakami, SeverCorp CEO, had no perceivable reason to kill Illumi.

He leaned away from his laptop computer with a small huff of exasperation. No matter, then. CEOs could always be replaced, and Illumi had no desire to be continuously bombarded with hired thugs of this Mr. Murakami. "We will travel to Yorknew City in the morning," Illumi declared, shutting the laptop he'd been using it and placing it on the nightstand between the beds in the room. "I'm going to sleep."

Hisoka sat up, and Illumi could feel his eyes tracking him to the bathroom. He shut the door, and he shut out the lingering feeling that Hisoka could still see him anyway.

 

#

Hisoka slept sprawled on back, limbs flung out in every direction and mouth slightly ajar. Illumi stared at him and thought that it was with a rather reckless abandon that Hisoka slumbered, seemingly unaware of his surroundings. He wasn't even using  _nen_  to safeguard himself.

When Illumi nudged Hisoka in the side with his foot, though, the response was too controlled, and watching Hisoka yawn and stretch loudly, Illumi knew that he had been awake the entire time.

"Time to go already?" Hisoka said.

"I don't understand why you pretend like you do," Illumi said, the closest thing to a complaint he was willing to offer. Were he ever to truly express any sort of vexation, Hisoka might just cry with delight.

Hisoka chuckled, a low hum moving up through his chest and escaping into the room around them. "My dear Illumi," he said, "It keeps things interesting,"

"You think I'm dull?" Illumi asked, and felt his eyebrows draw together ever so slightly.

Hisoka's eyes widened and his grin turned wolfish. "Never," he said, leering with an expected level of vulgarity.

Illumi turned away, ignoring Hisoka's roaming eyes and gathering his few belongings. "We should arrive in Yorknew by noon," he said simply, and moved for the door without checking to see if Hisoka followed.

They took an airship on to Yorknew, departing from Shiruba while the sky was still dark. On the aircraft, they sat in a secluded section of the upper deck, and Illumi laid out the intelligence he had gathered regarding the security of Murakami.

"The security service SeverCorp typically uses utilizes a double layer security rotation unless otherwise planned by the employer," Illumi explained, returning to their seats from the bar. He had limited himself to an ice water, but on a whim, had ordered a pink lemonade for Hisoka.

Hisoka accepted the glass, quirking one eyebrow as he considered the bright pink drink in his glass. A small smile curved his lips as he took a sip, eyes still trained on Illumi.

"We will approach the target prior to his departure for the conference. At this point, the security force will be focused on securing the transportation route ahead of the target, leaving him partially exposed as he awaits a signal to begin moving." Illumi continued. He turned on his laptop where it sat on a low coffee table between their seats, and turned the screen to face Hisoka, who leaned in to observe the page that was already loaded.

"This is an updated blueprint of the target's starting location, a hotel suite two kilometers from the conference hall," Illumi said, "I will take a direct route through Corridor C and up the staircase, meanwhile, you shall create a security distraction in the hallway opposite, Corridor A." He moved his finger along the hallways on the screen. "It is a simple plan for a simple target."

Hisoka hummed in acknowledgement and took a deep sip of his lemonade. He licked his lips after, pink tongue darting out between his lips and oddly, Illumi found that his innocuous action was one which momentarily managed to hold his attention.

He blinked and down at the cup in his hand. Water condensation had begun to collect on the outside of the glass, and as Illumi watched, droplets gathered and trickled down over the back of his hand. "When the target is eliminated," Illumi said, "There will be no one to stop us from leaving." He raised his glass to his lips, and could sense Hisoka's quiet chuckles, rolling off him with waves of eager anticipation.

 

#

Illumi could remember the first time he killed a human being without the watchful eyes of his parents or his grandparents observing his every move.

The target had been a man: aged thirty-four, the spoiled heir of old money a business associate wanted out of the way. I

llumi followed the coordinate instructions assigned to him by his father and arrived at the high rise building the woman was residing in. Getting past his security was a simple matter of being too young to raise suspicion and being prepared to dispose of any guard who interfered with his act as a lost, wandering boy. Illumi was eleven at the time, and he had not yet learned that the most efficient kill occurred when the target did not have time to see him.

"You're a boy," the target said. "You're just a boy." He laughed, although for what reason Illumi was never certain. Had the target not realized that Illumi had effectively killed his way into the suite?

"I am going to kill you now," Illumi announced, because he wasn't sure what else to do, and because he had felt a sudden need to explain himself.

"You're a little boy!" the target shouted, face turning red, and there was sweat beading at his hairline. A drop trickled down the side of his face, and the target laughed again, and reached into his suit jacket—

But Illumi was faster, much faster, and there was a long pin lodged between the target's eyes before he even saw it coming.

The poison was fast-acting; the target fell to his knees and then slumped forward, onto his face.

Illumi stood over the target, whose skin was already taking on a pallid color, and whose bowels had loosened in death. He wrinkled his nose, disgusted, and thought to himself that dying was perhaps the most inconvenient, most embarrassing thing he could do.

 

#

In his thirty-one years, Illumi had seen many types of security measures. In his twenty years as an assassin, he had been the bane of countless hired body guards. The protective forces surrounding Severence Murakami would be just another wave of nameless faces, should they cross Illumi's path.

Arriving in Yorknew with four hours to spare, Illumi sat across from Hisoka in the café they had chosen to wait in and wondered what Hisoka saw. He had his toy box, of course, of all the promising fighters he had crossed paths with. Illumi was certain Hisoka counted him among one of his 'toys'. But what did Hisoka see in the easy kills? An easy kill bored Hisoka, Illumi supposed. Did he, like Illumi find those victims the same as ants beneath his shoe? Available to be killed, but why bother sometimes?

Illumi considered this perspective and hummed in self-agreement.

"What do you think about?" Hisoka said, drawing Illumi's attention. Hisoka was lounged sideways across the booth from Illumi, legs stretched out on the seat in front of him. He swung around to face Illumi and leaned forward on the table, cupping his face in his hands. "I can never tell if there's anything going on in there, you know," he said. A sly grin curved the corners of his lips, "My favorite theory is that you have a continuous loop of children cartoon songs going on in there."

"Children cartoon songs?" Illumi repeated, frowning in distaste. "I would think that would be more  _your_ style."

"A valid point," Hisoka murmured. His expression did not change, and he leaned in further, until he was halfway across the table, and Illumi could feel Hisoka's breath against his face.

Illumi knew better than to move back even a hair.

"However, the question still stands." Hisoka said, now lacing his long fingers together and resting his chin on top of them. "You must entertain yourself somehow. What do you think about?"

"Nothing. There is only static noise, all day," Illumi deadpanned. "Sometimes there is a high-pitched beep when I complete a job."

Hisoka stared at him, and after a moment said with equal emotionlessness, "You're a funny guy, Zoldyck,"

"It is a hidden talent," Illumi said.

"Do you have any other hidden talents you'd like to share?" Hisoka said,  not missing a beat.

Illumi didn't indulge him with a response, but a sudden burst of amusement nearly tugged a smile across his lips. Nearly.

 

#

At two o'clock they approached their target location and Hisoka gave Illumi a short, silent nod before seemingly vanishing into the crowded sidewalk outside of the hotel.

Illumi entered the lobby with the appearance of a young businesswoman in dress slacks and with his hair pulled high in a bun. He proceeded up the elevator unhindered and exited two floors below that of the target, Murakami, traveling the last leg of the journey up the flight of stairs, where there would be no security cameras.

The hallway was quiet when Illumi stepped out onto the landing. In the parallel corridor across the building, he could, with his enhanced sense of hearing, sense the dull thud of a body dropping to the carpeted ground, and he knew that Hisoka was following up on his part of the plan. Indeed, he appeared to have drawn away the majority of the security force to his part of the hall, and Illumi cut through the remaining guards on his side before they could so much as utter a "you can't be here right now!"

Illumi opened the door to the suite slowly, and allowed a couple of seconds pass before he peered inside. No sooner had he taken a look into the room than a barrage of gunfire went off. He ducked back outside and counted the continuing shots. Twelve… thirteen… fourteen… fifteen.

_Click._

The clip was empty. A handgun, then.

Illumi strode into the room to find his target alone in the middle of the lavish suite's sitting room. Murakami was struggling to reload the magazine of his gun, and when he saw Illumi's businesswoman disguise enter the room, he froze.

"I just want to talk," Illumi lied, "Put down the gun."

"W-what do you want? Money?" Murakami demanded. The gun clattered to the ground, magazine only just reloaded. His voice trembled but that was the only obvious indication of his fear.

Interesting. Illumi took another step forward. "You've been sending thugs after me, Murakami. Hired assassins. Amateurs." He said. "It's bothersome. I want to know why."

"I don't know who you are, lady," Murakami barked. Then he paled, comprehension dawning over him, and to confirm the man's suspicions, Illumi let go of the tension in the muscles of his body, forcing his features right again and disposing of his disguise.

"We share something in common, then," Illumi said, "I don't know who you are, either." He stared at Murakami, examining the man's face.

Severence Murakami was a middle-aged man, with gray hair appearing at his temples and his dark hair otherwise slicked back. He was stout, but fit, for a businessman but he had an unattractive face, with wideset eyes, thick eyebrows, and a long, hooked nose nearly overshadowing his thin lips, currently pulled into near nonexistence with his frown. Still, his beady eyes spoke of a certain cunningness, and it was clear that he was a self-built man, who had reached his level of wealth and success not without pushing down some who had made the mistake of getting in his way.

"I will ask this nicely once: why have you been trying to kill me? Surely you could not have thought it so easily done."

Murakami straightened up, an ugly rage pinching his features closer together, and giving courage to a man who ought to have been cowering by now.

Illumi could find it in himself to offer respect for a man who did not fear death. "Who did I kill?" he asked.

Murakami bristled. "You don't know,"

"No," Illumi said, "I'm an assassin. I kill who I am paid to kill."

"You're a machine," Murakami spat. "You don't have a  _soul_!"

"I'm an assassin," Illumi said, "It's nothing personal." He reached up to where three well-placed pins held his hair in place. In the moment that he moved for the pins, Murakami dove for his gun.

Illumi was always faster, and there was a pin through Murakami's hand and into the floorboards before Illumi's hair had finished tumbling out of its upsweep.

"I have two more pins," Illumi said, looming over Murakami in a flash. He kicked the gun out of reach as Murakami swore and squealed with pain. "It is unfortunate you had to do something stupid." He placed a shoe on the bulbous end of the pin impaled through Murakami's hand and nudged it forward, causing metal to squelch where Murkami's wound was pulled at and causing the man to shout wordlessly. "Wouldn't you like to tell me what this is about before I kill you?" Illumi said.

Murakami squirmed, trying to look back up at Illumi despite behind held down against the ground by the weight of Illumi's other foot digging into the small of his back. "You said you weren't going to kill me!"

"I said I just wanted to talk," Illumi said coolly, "But you do not seem so keen on that, so we will simply have to jump ahead in this process to the point where I kill you."

Murakami finally managed to twist part of his torso so that he could look up into Illumi's face. Sweat glistened across his forehead and his eyes smoldered with the fury of a man wronged. "Your family –your  _father_ ," Murakami hissed, "Twelve years ago, you killed my father, my uncle, my eldest sister. The Zoldycks need to pay for all the destruction they've wrecked in the world!"

"You should have gone after Silva, then," Illumi said, stepping away. "My father might have cared for your story." He would have listened, in any case.

"The night he murdered my family, I lost everyone I ever loved –and for what? They were nobody to you people. Less than the dirt beneath your shoe! Your kind –you're monsters!" Murakami shrieked. He seemed to have forgotten about his injured hand, sitting up and screaming at Illumi. His pallid face grew redder with every word and a vein pulsed angrily down the middle of his forehead. "I'll take Silva Zoldyck's entire family away, one by one, and he'll know how it feels then. I'm going to kill you, and kill your brothers, every last one of them, and then I'll—"

Illumi's eyes narrowed, an instinctive protectiveness running through him at the mention of threat against his kin. Murakami was ranting nonsensically now, spitting out hysterical threat after unfounded warning, all but foaming at the mouth. In another moment, his baleful gaze met Illumi's emotionless stare.

"I'll kill you…" Murakami trailed off, finally cowing under Illumi's scrutiny.

A faint sneer flickered across Illumi's expression before he took another step away and recomposed his face to take on his usual neutrality. "No you won't," he said, and in the blink of an eye, hurled the two pins he'd been holding through Murakami's eyes.

_Thunk, thunk. Thud._

Blood pooled under Murakami's face, now pressed sideways into the floor and Illumi turned away.

"Who was he?" Hisoka asked, when Illumi emerged from the suite on the other side of the room. He was leaning against a wall in front of a line of bodies strewn across the ground behind him, not a hair out of place.

"He was nobody who thought he was somebody," Illumi replied, surveying the ruin in the corridor. He looked at Hisoka, "Did you kill everybody?"

Hisoka shrugged. "Only the ones who tried to kill me first." He smirked. "It was self-defense," he joked, then tilted his head to the side as he appeared to consider Illumi. "Will you go home now?"

Illumi blinked, oddly taken aback by the question. He looked away. "I have not been home in many years," he said, not quite sure why he was divulging that particular piece of information. "I remain in contact with my father for professional purposes." He decided to move the conversation along; "What will you do now?"

Hisoka tapped a finger against his chin. "Go for coffee, I think," he said. "And then maybe return to Heaven's Arena. It's all very up in the air. I don't have my eye on anything at the moment."

Illumi stared at him.

Hisoka raised his eyebrows. "Would you like to have coffee with me, Illumi?" he said.

"Well, alright," Illumi said.

"You're a strange guy," Hisoka muttered, but he fell into step with Illumi as they departed for the elevator. It would be at least ten minutes before someone realized that all of the twentieth floor was dead. "Nice shoes,"

Illumi glanced down at the sensible black high-heel shoes he had donned for his disguise earlier. "I prefer flats."

Hisoka slung an arm over Illumi's shoulder, and Illumi twitched and resisted the urge to reach up and break Hisoka's arm. The heavy weight of Hisoka's limb remained as they stood in the elevator, and Illumi could feel the warmth of his skin through the navy blazer Illumi wore as part of his earlier get-up. "I don't suppose you want to keep that arm," Illumi said finally, when they were almost at the lobby.

Hisoka chuckled, but removed his arm from Illumi's body, and for a moment, he felt cold where Hisoka's touch had been.

 

#

"Do you ever feel,"

Illumi looked up from his coffee mug, where he'd been staring at the foam still sitting on the top layer of his drink. "Do I ever feel what?"

"That's what you said, three days ago," Hisoka explained, lazily stirring his drink with a straw.  "I've been thinking about what you meant. Do I ever feel in general? Do I ever feel like dressing up needlessly to accomplish a simple task? The answer is yes to both of those, by the way."

Illumi frowned. "I do not recall what was on my mind at the time," But of course he did. He knew exactly what he had been about to ask, and it was ludicrous.

Hisoka gave Illumi an usually sharp look. " _Tch_. We're friends, aren't we?"

"I don't remember what I was saying," Illumi insisted, thinking,  _are we?_

"Well that's no fun," Hisoka said, sniffing. He took a drink from his coffee, seeming not to notice the steaming nature of the liquid. He licked his lips. "Have you ever been to the High Temple?"

"Of Kukanyu?" Illumi asked.

"There's a tournament in an underground village seven kilometers east of the High Temple," Hisoka said. "There's no prize, which means the contestants will be more interesting. I hope there'll be ninjas, in any case." He raised his mug to his lips and finished the drink in one long gulp. When he finished, he stood, and placed some jenny on the table between them, enough to cover both his and Illumi's drinks.

"Are you leaving now?" Illumi asked.

"Are you coming with me?"

"I might have a job."

"What, your family isn't made of assassins?" Hisoka smirked.

It wasn't that Illumi hadn't already been planning on following Hisoka wherever his whims took him, anyway, but to be faced with Hisoka's own presumptuousness, well, it was –it was unnerving –no, unsound.

"Don't get cocky, here," Illumi warned, climbing to his feet anyway and staring Hisoka straight in the eye.

"Shall we play traveling companions then?" Hisoka asked.

Illumi gave the barest, most indifferent shrug he could manage. "I suppose."

What happened next could only be described by Illumi as a mistake in judgement, or seriously wishful thinking on Hisoka's part; Illumi blinked and Hisoka, who had been standing not a foot away, suddenly took the opportunity to lean in and press his mouth to Illumi's.

In the next second, Hisoka was hurtling across the room with the force of a startled punch across the face.

"Do you want to die?" Illumi shouted, and his voice came out uncommonly strangled. He felt his heart rate spiking. All of these things were extremely abnormal for him.

Hisoka groaned from where he had landed on his back near the door of the café, but it was a suspiciously satisfied groan.

"What's the idea here?" cried the café's cashier, leaning over the counter to look at Illumi. The other patrons of the establishment were all turned around in various stages of surprise and alarm as well.

Hisoka climbed slowly to his feet, rubbing his cheek where a dark, angry bruise had already started to bloom. He was smiling, eyes alight with a familiar arousal, and Illumi stalked forward and past Hisoka, not meeting his eye.

The sun was moving toward the horizon line when they stepped out onto the sidewalk of Yorknew City.

Illumi rounded on Hisoka once they were outside, a demand for explanation blazing in his usually blank eyes.

"I thought we were having a moment," Hisoka shrugged.

"Don't surprise me like that again," Illumi snapped. "You're lucky I didn't strangle you,"

His warning only seemed to spark greater interest in Hisoka's eyes. "Really?" Hisoka said, curious, "Is it an automatic reaction, then? What if I told you first"

"-Don't," Illumi said.

They regarded one another, and Hisoka tilted his head to the side. "Can I ask?" He said eventually.

It occurred to Illumi that they were still standing close –more out of necessity from standing on the middle of a sidewalk when Yorknew citizens continued to bustle past. Hisoka was watching Illumi with a focus generally absent from his demeanor outside of a serious fight.

"Illumi, dear," Hisoka said, a smile playing at the corners of his lips as he addressed Illumi teasingly, "May I kiss you?"

Illumi had not, in truth, kissed anybody for several years –three, if he was to recall exactly. He found few reasons to endure the presence of others, even fewer to trust someone on an intimate level. Besides, kissing interfered with his physical senses.

Irrationally, he thought of the question that had almost escaped his tongue earlier that week. Logically, he concluded, it made some sense that seven years with little company must have affected him somehow, especially being used to being surrounded by family. Naturally, he told himself, self-discipline would have to eventually be relearned –the sooner the better.

But then, Illumi thought vaguely, eyes roaming over Hisoka's face –over thin, straight nose and pink lips and high cheekbones –he  _was_  Silva's son.

Was Illumi a soulless monster? That was a matter of opinion. Was he unfeeling? Was he without flaw?

_We're friends, aren't we?_

_May I kiss you?_

Illumi did not know what friendship was, exactly, not when it was something he had taken great efforts of avoiding for so long. It was a great, alien concept, friendship. He couldn't answer a question like that, not when he didn't know what to expect.

But.

_May I kiss you?_

He knew that.

"No," Illumi said flatly.

Hisoka's eyebrows lifted, revealing his genuine surprise. He leaned back, from where he had slowly encroached further upon Illumi's person, and he started to shrug, apathetic, when Illumi reached up and, grasping Hisoka's face, pulled their lips together.

Hisoka tasted like the coffee he'd had, when he finally recovered from the shock of being kissed and had the mind to return it. He grinned, gleeful when Illumi pulled away –or rather, shoved Hisoka away before he could get too handsy.

"Don't push your luck," Illumi said.

Hisoka placed his hands over his chest in a dramatic gesture, "I wouldn't dare," He crooned.

Illumi looked away, "Which way to the airship station?"

"East," Hisoka responded. There was a very pleased air about his usual expression, which was always somewhere between faintly amused and faintly aroused, and Illumi was struck with the urge to give Hisoka another good punch to the jaw, just to wipe away his smug look.

Illumi turned in the reported direction and glanced back at Hisoka, "We will get passage on an airship leaving tomorrow morning, yes?"

Hisoka's expression lit up and he nodded, falling into step beside Illumi, who paused only to consider him a final time before he stepped forward and moved on.

 

 

#

 

_Do you ever feel lonely?_

 

_#_

 

_  
_

_I fear me this—is Loneliness—_  
_The Maker of the soul_  
_Its Caverns and its Corridors_  
_Illuminate—or seal—_

 

_-Emily Dickinson_

 

**Author's Note:**

> The full poem by Emily Dickinson that influences this fic's title is found below: 
> 
> "The Loneliness One dare not sound —  
> And would as soon surmise  
> As in its Grave go plumbing  
> To ascertain the size —
> 
> The Loneliness whose worst alarm  
> Is lest itself should see —  
> And perish from before itself  
> For just a scrutiny —
> 
> The Horror not to be surveyed —  
> But skirted in the Dark —  
> With Consciousness suspended —  
> And Being under Lock —
> 
> I fear me this — is Loneliness —  
> The Maker of the soul  
> Its Caverns and its Corridors  
> Illuminate — or seal —"
> 
> And. Not going to lie, it was this poem or Emily Dickinson's "There is Another Loneliness", but among other reasons, "The Loneliness one dare not sound" won out because it contains the phrase "Illuminate" and I have a terrible sense of humor.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this fic. Please leave a review or comment! :)


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